The Villager in Tent Three
by OceanSpiral
Summary: When Aisling leaves her hometown for the island of Castlebay, all she expects is sun, sand and plenty of solitude. But when the mysterious villager in tent three turns up dead one night after a vicious storm that left the only plane off the island grounded, Aisling realises someone on the island is a murderer. She has to figure out who it is. Before they come after her, too.
1. New Horizons

I would be safe on Castlebay Island.

That was what I had to keep telling myself. It didn't matter that I was leaving everything familiar behind. It didn't matter I wouldn't see my friends and family for a long time. What mattered was that I was going somewhere where nobody knew me. And I would be safe.

I locked my gaze on the single plasma screen above the gate, flickering with alternate arrival and departure times. There was only one flight out to Castlebay today (mine) and one coming back, about two hours later. And that was it. Then again, the airport was small – converted out of an old barn – and not even in use during the winter months. That was the one part I still hadn't made peace with. The fact that there would be a period of three months where the island, my new home, would be completely cut off from everybody else in the world.

My leg cramped, the squeeze of pain sobering. I unfolded myself from the blue fabric seat and walked a few paces until it subsided. I wanted to go further, wander up to the viewing platform, watch the plane get prepped, buy some water from the vendor outside, but I couldn't leave my bag unattended. They didn't check luggage in – the hold was reserved for shipments and mail. The entire operation seemed to work on best intentions and an inflated sense of trust.

"_Attention passengers, Flight N64 from Doveport Town to Castlebay Island is now departing from Gate One. All passengers please ensure you have tickets and photographic identification ready._"

There was one other passenger boarding. A young man whose skinny frame supported a bag nearly the full length of his body. His clothes were casual, but looked brand-new, immaculately coordinated. A camera swung over his shoulder – a proper one, large and expensive. Despite it, he barrelled ahead of me and shoved his ticket at the lone staff member propped up at the doorway. He was out the door and marching towards the plane in a matter of moments.

The staff member motioned to me. "Ticket and identification, please."

I handed both over, fighting to keep my face neutral, stop the redness from staining my cheeks. A blot of fear battled to take me over, like a drop of ink in a glass of water. _Please don't look too closely. _We'd tried so hard to make it look natural and authentic. If it all got blown now, what else could I do?

The worker handed both back to me. "All seems to be in order. Thank you, Miss, uh…"

"Aisling. Pronounced like _Ash-lin_," I enunciated. It had taken me long enough to get used to it, unsticking my tongue over the unfamiliar sounds. I hadn't picked it. If it had been my choice, I would have picked something simpler. Less flamboyant.

"Thank you. Please enjoy your stay on Castlebay Island." When I hesitated, intimidated by the openness, he coaxed me again. "Best to get a move on, Miss, the weather's going to take a turn soon."

I blinked. The warmth was generous and sweetened, the rays of sun unfettered. A cool wind flirted with the seasonal flowers, saucer-shaped and spirited with movement. It had been the same for the past week. Barely a cloud in the sky. Was he seeing the same things I was?

"Weather changes quick out these parts, Miss Aisling," he explained, smiling wanly. "Some of us got a sixth sense for this stuff. Don't worry, we just like to be safe."

My fingers clenched around the ticket and ID. "I see. Is there anything else that's not… safe about Castlebay Island?"

The staff worker brightened. "Oh, not once you're on the island, Miss Aisling. Safe as houses. Just between you and me…" he beckoned me forward, conspiringly. "Nothing ever happens on Castlebay Island."

A smile crept onto my face. It sounded perfect.

"Have a pleasant flight, Miss Aisling."

I shouldered my bag and looked towards the plane. My feet moved as if they had a mind of their own from the sleek, gleaming tiles onto the dark tarred road. The air was hotter here, thick with the acrid smell of diesel. It was hard to believe I was leaving my hometown, heading to some tiny spit of land in the middle of the ocean. A new start. A safe place. A chance to start again.

I started walking, the first steps towards a new life.

* * *

**Author's Notes  
**

Hello everyone and welcome to my Animal Crossing New Horizons murder mystery story!

Thank you to Andre Segers on Twitter who originally posted the idea of an Animal Crossing murder mystery story! And for everyone on tumblr who liked, reblogged and supported the idea. I hope if any of you came to read it that I didn't disappoint you.

This is just a short prologue so I'll be writing and updating as I can. Hoping to get another chapter up in a week or so, once I've ironed out a few more chinks in my outlining.

Thank you for reading, everyone!


	2. Bumpy Landing

**March 1st, 2020 – Morning **

The plane had nine seats – eight for passengers and one right at the front that I assumed was reserved for an air steward. But as I quickly found out, an air steward was a luxury this old rust bucket would be lucky to have. It came as a mild surprise that they'd even bothered to fit seatbelts.

Ducking my head to avoid smacking into the low-hanging arch, I took a deep breath in for courage. The other passenger sat close to the front, fiddling with the settings on his camera. I squeezed my hips through the narrow aisle, offering him a smile he didn't return.

The intercom crackled into life.

_"Good morning, passengers, this is your pilot speaking._"

The pilot had an odd quality to his voice. It was guttural and slightly hoarse, like his vocal chords had been rubbed with sandpaper. I jumped into the closest seat available as the door sealed shut behind me.

"_Welcome aboard Dodo Airlines towards our destination of Castlebay Island. Flying conditions today are good, with excellent visibility and a steady windspeed in a north, north-westerly direction. Our journey time today will be approximately one hour and twenty minutes, arriving into Castlebay Island at 11:50 AM. Please note that there will be no in-flight services or entertainment."_

Good thing I'd brought a book.

_"For now, sit back, relax and enjoy the flight_."

As the plane whirred into life, I hauled my bag onto the seat next to me. It was strange to think that my entire life was packed into this bag. A life condensed to its basics. Everything I had done – everything I _was _– came down to a dozen changes of clothes, some toiletries and a few books. No electronics. The brochure said they wouldn't function properly on the island. Not that it mattered. It would be too risky to bring them.

The plane was moving now. I'd flown before, many times, but nothing compared to the noise this tiny plane made as it rattled down the runway. The words in my book bounced, making no sense, and wriggled around my head like earthworms squirming in the dirt. The engines turned, and with a noise that sounded like a rumble of thunder, the plane lifted into the air. We jerked, buffeted by a sudden wind, and I grabbed the armrests, my heart thudding against my ribcage.

The plane steadied. I relaxed, feeling the vibration cease. I rested my head against the window, the whir of the propellers almost soothing in its consistency. I could see patchwork fields and silvery rivers, dotted with the occasional settlement of houses. After a few minutes, it all melted into a deep blue slab of ocean, daubed with thin wisps of cloud.

I tried to go back to reading. It was easier to fill my head with someone else's words than my own. I'd spent weeks trying not to think too much about where I was going, but now it was nearly impossible to stave off. Exactly how "deserted" was Castlebay? The brochure said accommodation was "available" and food was "plentiful" – I wouldn't have agreed to it otherwise – but what that translated to, I had no idea. Accommodation could be anything from a tent to a five-star hotel, although the latter I doubted. And what about other island dwellers? The fact Tom Nook was running a service largely pitched at Animals had been ticking around my brain for days. Most of the time, Animals and humans didn't cohabitate.

Something clicked. One, twice, three times. I lifted my head out of my book and found I was staring right down the barrel of a camera.

I covered my face. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The other passenger lowered his camera, grunted angrily at the resulting photograph and turned away again.

"Excuse me," I tried again, trying to inject bravery into my voice. "What are you doing taking my picture?"

The photographer's shoulders heaved. "There were no good shots from this window."

"So what does that have to do with taking _my _photograph?"

"Needed to photograph something to make sure my settings were correct. It looked like a nice composition."

I blinked. "May I see it?"

"I deleted it. You were pulling a face."

"I see." I said stiffly. "Well, listen, please do not photograph me again. I really don't like it."

He didn't reply, already twisting his back and arms like a contortionist to point the camera at the window of the seat behind him. I looked down at my lap. The book had suddenly lost all its appeal.

"Why are you going to Castlebay?" I asked.

He took so long to answer I though he was either ignoring me or hadn't heard me.

"Work," he said eventually.

"Oh? Who do you work for?"

"_Slice of Leaf Nature Magazine._"

I hadn't heard of it, but I wasn't about to admit it. "That's cool," I said, hoping it didn't sound as limp to him as it did to me. "Are you well known?"

"In my field."

"What's your name? Maybe I've heard of you."

Three more shutter clicks. "Morgan Stacey."

"Nice to meet you, Morgan. I'm Aisling." The name still didn't sound right, like it was too big to fit in my mouth. "Will you be staying long?"

He pulled the camera back down and adjusted the lens. "Three months."

"Long enough, isn't it?" Now that I'd started talking, I found that I didn't want to stop. "It's scary though. But exciting. Like starting life all over again. But I suppose—"

Morgan sighed loudly, fixing me with a cool stare. "I'm sorry, but I'm actually very busy. I have a lot of work to get done. I can't be spending all this time wittering on."

I was surprised by the strength of my disappointment. I shrunk back into the chair and half-heartedly lifted my book again. Minutes unfurled, like molasses dripping from a spoon. I couldn't concentrate. There was nothing much to see beyond the wing of the plane, cutting into the blue ocean like an iceberg. This was a small plane and the ocean went on for miles. Tendrils of nerves twisted in the pit of my stomach. What would happen if we went down? Would we ever be found?

I leant against the headrest and tried to regulate my breathing. What had they taught me? Breathe in four seconds, hold for seven, exhale for eight. It was hard to focus on worrying when I had to concentrate so hard on counting.

Slowly, my body relaxed. Darkness clung to the edge of my vision, soft as velvet, and my surroundings blurred like the dipping of an artist's brush. I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, the intercom crackled back into life.

"_Attention passengers, we will soon be making our descent to Castlebay Island. At this moment, we ask that you fasten seatbelts securely in preparation for landing. Passengers flying with Tom Nook's Deserted Island Getaway Package should note that they will be met at the airport with further information. Thank you for choosing Dodo Airlines._"

The Fasten Seatbelt light above the steward's seat dinged and I wriggled upwards, trying to work out the crick in my back. Morgan was busily packing away his camera and wouldn't look at me.

The weather had turned. Everything was steely grey; clouds rose like mountainous peaks and raindrops simpered against the glass. As hard as I tried, I couldn't pick out any landmass through the packed layers of cloud.

The descent started quickly. The plane roared, leaving my ears ringing, then tilted. The clouds rose up to meet us, and as we dipped further, I tried not to look. I didn't mind flying, but the landing made me nervous, worry fizzing in my stomach like popping candy. I glanced across at Morgan, but he was staring out the window, enraptured.

We were approaching the ocean with frightening speed. I could see something in the distance – land, I hoped – but we didn't seem to be flying directly towards it. We were still descending towards the ocean, getting closer with every hitching breath.

"_We are now approaching Castlebay Island. Please prepare for landing._"

A squeal left my lips and I shoved my hands over my mouth, as if to try to cram it back in. With a sudden drop, my stomach felt like it been detached from the rest of me and had become fully buoyant. I was engulfed by a strange feeling, like gravity gave up on holding me down. It lasted only seconds. Outside the window, I saw the plane unfold two sets of floats. Then, we slowed, almost to a crawl and the ocean was at my eye level.

We hit the water with a judder, shuddered upwards, and then came down again. With another roar, the plane slowed and then smoothly surfed forward. Morgan turned around, a deep frown creasing his face.

"Have you never ridden in a seaplane before?"

My stomach lurched and heaved. The water, separated only by a thin frame of steel, looked tar-like so close. I gasped and gripped the armrest.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Try not to feel too bad." Morgan said as we climbed from the plane and up onto the dock that stuck out into the water like a splinter in the finger. "You got most of it in the seat pocket, after all."

"Shut up," I said weakly. "I didn't realise we were coming in on a seaplane."

"Hmph." Morgan folded his arms. "You won't last five minutes on a deserted island with that weak a constitution."

I wanted to snap back, but my churning stomach gurgled again, and I clamped my mouth shut. It was slightly better out in the open, but what I really wanted was a sit down and a glass of water. Weren't we supposed to be met by someone at the airport?

I wandered partway down the dock, watching the water rush between the gaps in the wood. The dock opened out onto a stretch of beach, horseshoe shaped and framed by trees. Further beyond that, the island rolled away into hills and grassland. But not a single other person. Panic surged in me like a wave at high tide. Were we actually deserted? Left alone out here with nothing and no-one to help us?

Then, a voice.

"Greetings, greetings!"

I'd seen Tom Nook on his brochure, so I recognised him immediately as he hurried along the dock. "A warm welcome to Castlebay Island! So very glad to see you arrived in one piece, yes-yes!"

I forced a smile. "More or less. You must be Tom Nook?"

"That's correct." He extended a paw and I shook it. "Aisling, is that right?" He pronounced it wrong but I didn't correct him. "You ordered the full Getaway Package?" When I nodded, he looked at Morgan. "So, this young chap must be our photographer, yes-yes?"

"That's me. Morgan Stacey." He briefly shook Tom's paw. "Nice to meet you."

"You booked on the three-month package, yes-yes?" He didn't even wait for Morgan's reply. "Excellent, excellent! I'll have you both follow me up to Residential Services."

He was off, waddling up the dock without a second's hesitation. He was surprisingly fast. Morgan followed, making quick work of the distance, while by comparison, I had to force myself to catch up.

Rain spat from the leaden sky. I wanted to take in the island, be awe-struck by its beauty as the brochure promised, but as I slid across slippery sand, my stomach in knots, I was distinctly underwhelmed by the whole thing so far.

At least it was a short walk to Residential Services – I counted around six minutes. I expected a building, but it turned out to be a glorified green marquee pitched in a small clearing, surrounded by trees and loose boxes. Tom Nook joined up with two other animals in identical shirts, chatting freely in Animalese, while Morgan and I hung back awkwardly.

"We'll keep this short as the weather doesn't seem to be on our side today!" Tom Nook said cheerily. "On behalf of Nook Inc, we'd all like to thank you for choosing the Deserted Island Getaway Package. We hope you will be very happy here."

A chilly wind picked up. I shivered, wishing I hadn't worn shorts.

"As part of your orientation, we have prepared you some Welcome Packs that contain everything you need to know about the island."

One of the smaller raccoons pushed a heavy bag towards me. "This includes a tent and some basic amenities," he chittered. "There's also an information pack detailing all the services we offer – including buying, selling and renovating!"

"And this…" Tom Nook handed me something, then plopped an identical one into Morgan's hand. "…is our special Nookphone. You can use this for keeping in contact with residents and services, find guidance for island living and it's even programmed with a map and a camera!"

"That's… that's very kind, thank you." I said in a near-whisper. I couldn't deny it felt good to have a phone in my hand again, feel connected to the world, even if, for now, the world only reached the corners of this little island.

"It is very kind." Morgan agreed. "But I have no need for it. I have my own phone."

Tom Nook's nose twitched. "I'm sure you saw in the brochure, my dear Morgan, that regular phones don't work on Castlebay Island. Signal doesn't reach this far out, yes-yes!"

Morgan cursed under his breath, sharp words that didn't seem right to be said in front of Tom Nook and the younger Nooklings. However, Nook carried on, seemingly unbothered.

"We will also offer workshops on crafting, fishing, bug-catching and all sorts of other fun island activities!"

It was so much to take in. A dull ache drummed at the back of my head. My legs still felt like jelly. _Please let this finish soon so I can lie down somewhere._

Tom Nook looked at me sympathetically. "Although, perhaps it might be best to have you both set up your tents and get some rest before we get into the nitty-gritty, yes-yes?"

I managed a grateful smile.

"The entire island is available for you to set up your tents – though we do ask that you be mindful of other villagers and not pitch too close to their space. You can check their locations on the map already programmed in your Nookphone."

"Other villagers?" Morgan frowned. "I wasn't aware there'd be _other _villagers here. It was billed to me as a "deserted island" getaway. Doesn't "deserted" mean "no other people"?" He said the last part with a pointed glance in my direction.

"Yes-yes! We currently have three other villagers pitched up!" Nook trilled. "It's a very popular excursion at the moment! I'm sure they'll be very pleased to meet you."

What was that old expression my mother always said? _Kill them with kindness. _It worked like a charm on Morgan, whose cheeks pinkened.

"Well I suppose it can't be helped. As long as no-one interferes with my work."

He turned and stomped away, without saying goodbye or thanking Tom Nook. That left me alone with him and the two younger Nooklings. My words died in my mouth.

"Better get going, Miss Aisling!" Tom Nook said. "We'll get plenty of time to get to know each other later, yes-yes?"

I nodded wordlessly.

I walked for a few minutes, only as far as it took for me to be certain I was far enough away from Nook and the Nooklings. A tree had been uprooted here, branches and stones littered the ground, and against a backdrop of dark skies, this wasn't the sort of paradise I had been expecting. Something trickled down my cheek and I wasn't sure if it was rain or tears.

The Nookphone buzzed. A tiny red notification popped up over the map icon. I pressed it, bringing up a map of the island. It looked much bigger than I originally expected, at least a couple of miles long in either direction. Four symbols showed up on the left-hand side of the screen:

Bill (Tent One)

Muffy (Tent Two)

Withheld at Villager's Request (Tent Three)

Morgan (Tent Four)

Long-pressing the icons showed the location of each house on the map. Bill's house was close to a bridge by the eastern river. Muffy's house sat in a patch of flowers near to Residential Services. Tent Three didn't show up on the map, no matter how hard I pressed. And Morgan seemed to have set up at the very top of the island, close to a rocky outcrop and a few minutes away from a thick cluster of trees.

My body ached. I needed to set up my own tent. Here was as good a place as any, I supposed, even though the area itself left a lot to be desired. The tent was simple enough to set up – Tom Nook's capsule technology was pretty much legendary – and came with a small pink radio, a lantern and a camp bed. I tested it gingerly. It seemed to hold my weight alright, even if it wasn't the comfiest thing in the world.

I set the radio to a random station, lay back in the camp bed and let sleep come for me.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Hi everyone!

Thanks so much to all of you who viewed and read the teaser chapter/prologue. I'm so pleased you enjoyed it! Particular thanks to WyldClaw for your review - I heartily appreciate it!

With the arrival of the first proper chapter, I'm really excited to deepen the plot and bring in all sorts of details. I had a lot of fun while writing this so I hope you guys enjoy :)


	3. Shifting Sands

**March 1st, 2020 – Late Night**

When I woke up, it was dark, the radio was silent, and someone was standing outside my tent.

I froze, holding my breath captive. The shadow outside the tent moved slowly, almost imperceptibly so, as if it was standing and waiting for something. I didn't dare move, as if even the slightest noise or movement would alert the presence outside.

Whoever – or _whatever _– was out there was only separated from me by a thin strip of fabric. If they wanted to get in, very little could stop them. I probably wouldn't even be able to rush past them. I waited, a clammy cold seeping into my limbs. The head of the shadow moved back and forth, slowly, like they were surveying the whole area. I heard the noise of rustling grass, and then the shadow was moving again, passing by the tent. Sweat slid down my back. A long time passed before I dropped down from the rickety camp bed and opened the tent flap.

It was too dark at first to see properly and my eyes struggled to adjust, so I doubled back and lifted the lamp. Outside, there was nobody around, aside from a light breeze and the distant sound of crashing waves. I circled the tent, looking at the flattened grass, a soft indent in the soggy ground. How long had this person been standing here, outside my tent as I slept? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I tried to rationalise it away. I was safe. Nothing bad happened. And there were no rules about people moving around late at night. It could just have been as simple as someone being curious. I wasn't at home now. I had to remember that people weren't out to get me at every turn anymore.

Sealing up the tent, I took in lungfuls of cool, crisp air, trying to calm myself down. The Nookphone, still wedged in my pocket, showed 11:24pm. A faint shock registered. How long had I been asleep? I must have been more tired than I thought. Either way, there was no chance of getting back to sleep now. I heaved a sigh. One day on my own and I'd practically reversed my sleep schedule. If this was how I was starting off, how would I manage for the rest of the time I'd be stuck here?

A thought surfaced and I toyed with it. Exercise was good for tiring you out, right? Maybe it wasn't the best idea to go traipsing around an unknown island in the pitch black when only ten minutes ago some random person had been hanging around outside my tent, but it was a far more attractive option than sitting on an uncomfortable camp bed and staring at the walls. Besides, I didn't have to go far.

I started to walk. I hadn't been much impressed with the island as I stepped off the plane, but under the spell of night, it was like an entirely different place.

I had never seen a sky like the one above Castlebay Island that first night. Everything around me seemed to glimmer under the blanket of darkness, dotted with milky speckles that twirled and danced in ancient, fragile patterns. The skyline was almost blue on the horizon, lit with a faint glow. I wanted to smile.

I didn't know how far – or how long – I walked under the canopy of stars. I didn't bother with the map on the Nookphone and the lamp dangled uselessly from the crook of my arm. It was bright enough. It was hard to fully shove aside the worries – my old life back home, the stranger outside my tent – but the walk made it easier not to think of them.

Before I knew it, I'd reached the beach at the bottom of the island. The sand was soft and crunched gently under my feet, as fine as spilled sugar, white in the beaming light of the moon. The waves slunk onto the shore and I watched them fall and recede, my mind emptying. For the first time in years, I was alone. I was safe. Nothing from my life back home could touch me. Nothing could harm me.

I stared up to the sky and a smile pulled at my cheeks like the tug of a marionette string. Despite the cold air, I felt warm, like I was sitting by a roaring fire. This place felt nice. Maybe I could get used to it.

Maybe I could be happy here?

It seemed like such a fleeting, silly thing. To hope for happiness when it still seemed so far away, so unattainable. I scuffed the sand with the toe of my shoe, folding it over itself. It wouldn't hurt to be optimistic, would it? Just once.

I dug both feet into the sand like I was trying to root myself to the earth. Something rattled, a thin, reedy noise against the hiss and crash of the waves. Down at my feet, something brown scuttled from the disturbed sand. A beaded tail that ended in a hooked spike and multiple sets of legs. I barely even recognised what it was before a prick of pain exploded through my lower leg.

As the pain burned, a wave of dizziness uprooted me. I felt light-headed, like the world around me faded and shrunk down to just my own thoughts inside my head. Then, my limbs gave away and I knew no more.

* * *

There was light pushing past my eyelids and a voice calling from somewhere far away.

"Hello? Excuse me, are you alright?"

My eyes fought the impulse to open them, like they had been glued shut. I was cold – yet oddly enough, I felt the heat of warmth on my body. Slowly, my senses returned.

Someone was standing over me. I saw dark wool and purple headband first, then I homed in on a pair of eyes, heavily outlined and thick with mascara. I tried to talk, but the only thing that came out of me was an incoherent mumble.

"Oh! Are you alright?" the voice said.

"I'm fine," I managed to garble back. But I wasn't sure if I _was_ fine. The pain had crept back into my leg, my limbs were stiff and the lamp from my tent lay broken a few feet away. And the biggest surprise of all, it was morning, the horizon a mess of tangerine pinks and soothing lavender.

The sheep – I think – was talking to me. "You're Aisling, right?"

"I…am?" it came out more of a question at first. "Yes, yes I am."

The sheep brightened and offered me her paw. "Nice to meet ya! I'm Muffy!" She hauled me to my feet with surprising strength. "I've heard all about you!"

"You have?" I didn't know if that was impressive or worrying. I'd barely been here a full day, and I'd spent most of it asleep. Did news travel that fast around here?

"Though I hoped I'd meet you under better circumstances, nightshade." Muffy said, tilting her head in concern. "What are you doing lying out here on the beach?"

Hazy memoires from last night clawed at me. I wrung my hands together, feeling foolish. "I had an… encounter… with a scorpion. I think It must have stung me and I passed out…"

Only now did I properly look at the puncture wound at the bottom of my leg. It was small, ragged around the edges, but aside from a noticeable swelling, it didn't look anywhere near as bad as I thought it would.

Muffy's already wide eyes bulged. "Are you alright? The varieties here aren't venomous, but scorpions still have a nasty sting, ya know? Best thing to do if you see one is just to get out of there."

"Happened too quickly to get away," I admitted. "I wasn't exactly expecting a scorpion to come out of nowhere. But yeah, I'll keep that in mind for next time…"

There was still pain in my leg, enough to make me wince when I put weight on it. I tried not to let it show, but Muffy brought herself up to her full height (she still barely came up to my chest) and slid her stubby arm through mine.

"We should get you over to Nook's Cranny, nightshade! They don't have much cos they're waiting on a delivery, but I'm sure I saw some medicine hiding in one of the cabinets."

I couldn't protest – or even think of protesting – as she gripped my arm tighter and took off, leading me in a sort of half-drag, half-stumble up the beach. Where was she taking me? Nook's Cranny? I hadn't seen a Nook's Cranny on the island map when I'd checked yesterday. What kind of place was it? The island, although bigger than I'd first thought, still seemed too small and too underpopulated to have any sort of medical facilities.

Muffy chatted animatedly as we staggered up the beach and emerged back into the grassland. She knew the area well, not even so much as glancing at a map or the Nookphone, whereas I'd probably have been hopelessly lost after seconds. She told me all about the things available to do on the islands and I listened only out of politeness and obligation, but I pricked up when she told me she'd moved here, two weeks ago, alongside Bill and Ross.

I hadn't seen the name Ross on the map. "Who's Ross?"

Muffy screwed her face up. "Oh, nightshade! I forget I wasn't supposed to mention."

I looked at her inquiringly. "Mention what?"

She chewed her lip then shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose it wouldn't do much harm to tell you. Well, Ross is the other villager who lives here. He's like you, a human."

"Is he the one that lives in tent three?"

"That's him, yes. But…" she paused to let me clamber over an errant branch. "I don't think he likes company. He doesn't leave his house and he never seems to want to talk to anyone."

I frowned. "So, he just stays inside all the time?"

She considered for a moment. "Not all the time. I mean, he must go out for food and to sell things. I think he goes out late. His tent is up on the hill above mine, and I stay up late, you know, so sometimes I still see his lights on when I go to bed."

We hobbled forward for a few more paces. Something shouldered its way to the front of my mind. The figure outside my tent, late last night.

I fought to keep my voice casual. "You said Ross goes out late at night, right?"

"Well, I think he does. Couldn't say with absolute certainty, nightshade!"

"Does anyone else?"

"I like a late night, but I'm normally wrapped up all cosy, nightshade!" she trilled. "Bill's an early morning riser, he likes to go jogging first thing. He gets up at the crack of dawn! How anyone can get up that early is beyond me, nightshade. I don't know about the other new neighbour." She smiled, but then her face creased. "Why are you asking, nightshade?"

"It… it doesn't matter," I said curtly.

Muffy looked confused but didn't pursue it. Together, we continued along the island, down a path that ran parallel to a river. The river was clear, the water opaque, curving into the distance like a sleeping cobra. The flowers that lined the banks teemed with life; butterflies roamed between flowers; bees drifted on the wind. Everything felt peaceful. That is, everything apart from the drumming of my heart and the gnawing thoughts in my head.

A blue roof stood out painfully against the green of the island. Framed by trees laden down by fat, shiny cherries, the corrugated roof boasted "_Nook's Cranny_", but the building itself was pitifully small and surrounded by loose fencing. To my surprise, Muffy had brought me to a shop.

I hadn't expected a shop. Though, realistically, how could a community function without one? And there was one other problem. I didn't have any money. Certainly not the money used here. Bells, I think they were called.

When I sheepishly voiced this to Muffy, she waved me away with her paw. "Don't be silly, nightshade, I know you've only just got here! I bet you've no tools or anything, have you? I'll get this and you can owe me one, okay?"

I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude towards this perfect stranger. I waited outside when she went in, on the excuse I wanted to rest my leg, but really, I felt too awkward to stand there while things were bought for me. Her voice buzzed from behind the walls. I couldn't be sure, but it sounded like she had slipped back into Animalese. Another stark reminder that this was a very different place than where I came from.

Propping myself up on one of the fence posts, I stuck my leg out to see how it was shaping up. No visible difference but the wound was starting to itch, and I hoped Muffy wouldn't be too long. I scratched it absent-mindedly, wincing at the sharp slivers of pain that went along with it.

I looked towards the scrap of woodland ahead of us, wanting to pick out something else to focus on, and my breath stopped in my throat.

Directly opposite from me, hidden by the fringe of leaves and a few clumps of grass, there was a dark figure. Eyes shadowed beneath the forehead, hair lying loose like rats' tails on either side of the face. Icy fingers of fear pressed up my spine, but I couldn't look away. And I found myself staring at the small, quiet mouth as it curled into a smile.

I clapped a hand over my mouth to stop the scream. But then the door of Nook's Cranny swung open and Muffy was back, and when I looked towards the trees, the figure was gone. Muffy's face crumpled in concern, but she hadn't seen it.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost, nightshade."

"It's… it's nothing. I just thought I saw…"

But what _had_ I seen? Could it have been Morgan, out looking for something to photograph and hidden in the darkness of the trees to get a clearer shot? Could it have been Bill? I didn't know what he looked like after, all. Or maybe one of the shopkeepers or airport staff? I didn't know. I couldn't tell from that sort of distance. All I did know was that the image of that small smile still flashed in my mind, like the lingering exposure from a camera shot.

I thought of the figure outside the tent and held my breath.

Was it possible they could be the same person?

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Here's chapter two! I'm trying to move to a once-weekly posting schedule as I'm busy still working on my novel and prepping for Camp Nano. Will try to ensure that Saturdays are my posting days, but I'll keep you all informed as things go. I've also worked out some of the outline so I have a good inkling where the story is going now! I'm super excited to share it with you all!

Thanks to WyldClaw for the review, I appreciate it! Thanks to everyone who read as well!


	4. Cherry Picking

**March 2nd, 2020 – Morning **

The medicine Muffy bought me worked like a charm. It came in two parts – a soft, sweet-smelling cream and a packet of small pink tablets. "_Will cure most (non-fatal) illnesses and injuries!_" the label boasted. I hoped I'd never have to test it on anything worse than the occasional sickness bug or ache and pain. Muffy helped me spread the cream along the injury and immediately, I felt the sting fade.

"Good as new, nightshade!" she trilled. "Do you feel better now?"

It really was quite remarkable how quickly it worked. Even the swelling looked like it was going down. "Much better, thank you." I said. "Are you sure I can't give you anything for the medicine, Muffy? Can I pay you back in some way? I feel bad you had to pay for it yourself."

Muffy waved her paws at me. "I don't need any Bells, nightshade! But, I suppose…" she tilted her head, considering. "One thing I _do _need is a punnet of fresh cherries. I ran out this morning when I used the last on my toast."

I tried not to think too much about the concept of cherries on toast.

"You've seen the cherry trees, right?" she continued. "Even though fruit grows super-quick here, most of the trees near my tent have been picked clean. And the ones growing here aren't quite ripe enough. But Bill told me there's a huge patch of them right at the top of the island. I was going to go up but I'm too small to reach the best ones."

"So you want me to get you… cherries?"

"Absolutely, nightshade! If it's not too much trouble, of course."

It did sound like trouble. Entirely too much trouble. But I couldn't bring myself to say no to her. She was the first person who had shown me kindness, purely out of the goodness of her heart, in such a long time. Sure, Tom Nook had been kind, especially with the tent and the Nookphone, but it had come out of a package deal that had been bought and paid for. Muffy had done it simply because she wanted to help.

I made myself smile. "Yeah, I can go up and get some for you."

"Thank you!" Muffy beamed. "I'll be in my tent the rest of the day so you can drop by any time. And oh, nightshade? You should pick up a few extra while you're down there. You can bring any items you find to Tom Nook and sell them for Bells. It's the easiest way to make money."

Muffy's advice sound vaguely familiar. It rang a bell, as it were. I snickered to myself, and then cringed at the fact that I'd even entertained such a terrible pun. "Yeah, I think Tom Nook may have mentioned it before," I said casually, trying to shake off the internal embarrassment.

Muffy nodded. "Well, I better get off home. Thanks again, you're a solid cat! I'll be waiting, nightshade!"

She waved me goodbye with one of her chubby paws and toddled away, leaving me sitting alone outside Nook's Cranny. A wind picked up, lifting the hair from my forehead and leaving the leaves giggling in the trees. Everything else remained still and quiet.

I pulled the Nookphone out and booted up the Island Map. For the first time since arriving on Castlebay, I finally had a chance to look properly at the island's layout. The whole island was cut into four "parts", I suppose was the best way to describe it, separated by criss-crosses of river. And as Muffy had rightly said, although the island was fairly covered by trees, they seemed densest at the northern part of the island. But what was the easiest way to get up there?

I set to plotting a route. For all the different sections of the river, only two were passable by bridge. The eastern part of the island – where my tent was – was linked to the central area with Nook's Cranny, Residential Services and Muffy's tent. The northern most section – containing Bill and Morgan's tents – was also connected to my section with a bridge. I allowed a sigh of relief. It looked like I wouldn't have to swim up the river or anything ridiculous like that.

It _would _be a long walk, though. One that would be better started sooner rather than later. I decided that I would call in at my tend and pick up my rucksack, as I didn't fancy carrying piles and piles of delicate cherries by hand. I tucked the Nookphone back into my pocket, along with the remaining medicine, and set off.

* * *

It was lovely to explore the island a bit more. There was sort of a sacredness to the place, this rolling stretch of (mostly) untouched land under a strip of blue sky. The air smelled clean, heady with the scent of woods after rain. Trees lifted their branches up, like churchgoers at worship, gently shaken, but unyielding in the breeze. There was no path once I crossed the bridge into the top section of the island, so I had to wind my way though skinny tree trunks and uneven ground. Sometimes the trees grew so thickly clumped together that I had trouble squeezing past, and other times the terrain opened out into such sparse clearings that I felt exposed and vulnerable, like I was the only other person in the world.

There was a tent pitched about five minutes away from the bridge – a joyful orange in colour with a makeshift post-box stuck haphazardly into the ground. "Bill" was splodged on in blue paint. I took a few minutes to look around the campsite. Aside from a few loose boxes and what looked like the bones of a campfire, there was no sign of life – or Bill himself – anywhere. Muffy had said he liked running. Perhaps he was still off galivanting somewhere.

The cherry trees Muffy promised lay in a small grove twenty minutes away from Bill's tent. Ahead of the grove, the grass unfurled into a small beach, hidden almost completely from sight by an outcrop of steel-grey rocks. The beach couldn't have been any more than a few metres in width and length, with a single solitary beach chair set up near the water's edge. It looked very peaceful. I had to remind myself I wasn't here to sunbathe. I was here for cherries.

The cherry trees themselves had thin trunks and spindly branches – easy to distinguish from the thick firs and oaks – and the cherries dangled precariously, looking as if they'd drop at any moment under their own weight. The lowest branches hung just above my eye level, so it was easy enough to reach up and pluck the cherries from their stalks. Admittedly, someone Muffy's height would probably have struggled. A twist of hunger gurgled in my stomach as I breathed in their soft scent. When was the last time I had eaten? I'd had breakfast before getting on the plane at Doveport Airport but between sleeping all day and the sting from the scorpion, I'd not had time to eat anything since. Remembering this, it was like a cavern of emptiness opened in my stomach. The flesh of the cherries was plump, a rich wine-red in colour and I couldn't resist biting into one. Then another. And then another and another until red stood out around my mouth, my tongue tingled with the mix of sweet and sour, and my belly felt pleasantly full.

Strength returned, I shrugged off my bag, hoping the cherries wouldn't get damaged when I packed them inside. Hopping from tree to tree, I shook branches and watched the red fruits topple into the grass, gleaming like precious jewels, and then scooped them into my bag. Once I was satisfied, I hoisted the bag back onto my shoulders and walked a few experimental paces. It was certainly heavy, but not enough that it would hinder me on the long walk back. Well, so long as I kept it slow.

With all the tree hopping I'd done I'd wandered away from my original stopping point. I unhooked the Nookphone to get my bearings again. Surprisingly, I found I'd gone far enough that I was closer to Morgan's tent than anything else. If I squinted and looked across the dipping hills, I could see what looked like the top of a tent among the fronds of leaves.

I could bring Morgan some cherries, I reasoned. He'd come to this place with nothing and nobody, just the same as me. And if we were going to be neighbours, it would make sense to have each other's backs.

The ground on the way up to Morgan's tent was messy, littered with branches and weeds, leaving me picking my way across. Several heavy stones stood out like scars, great chunks of them cut away, exposing the ancient layers underneath. I could see Morgan's tent clearly now, growing out of the hills, a distinctive red that seemed unnatural, bloodlike, against the green of nature.

I was so busy staring at Morgan's tent that I didn't notice the hole. My foot slipped on the uneven ground, plunging into a neat little gap. I stumbled and grabbed the nearest tree to steady myself, cursing. The whole tree shook under the impact. Then something dropped heavily to the ground, accompanied by a fury of buzzing.

When I turned my head to look, I came face-to-face with a loose beehive and many small angry bees.

I didn't wait. Fear gripped my heart; I threw myself to my feet and I ran. Within seconds, the bees followed in one dark cloud, the tempest of buzzing filling my ears. I'd never seen bees behave like this before. Pushing myself through tight clusters of trees, I darted and wove, trying to throw them off, confuse them, but nothing worked. I needed to find cover, quickly.

Morgan's tent! I'd forgotten about it in the flurry of panic. It wasn't much, but it was somewhere safe. I pushed harder. The tent flap opened, and Morgan stepped out, his hair tousled, grimacing in the light of the sun.

"Morgan!" I cried. Let me in!"

He turned towards me, his mouth hanging open. I heard some sort of garbled shout, words crashing into each other, and then I was grabbing him by the arm and pulling him inside the tent with me. We crashed through the open flap and onto the ground, but I immediately pivoted on my knees and scrambled for the tent zipper, the droning noise of the bees still ringing in my ears. With trembling hands, I sealed us inside and sat back, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

Morgan tugged on the back of my bag. "What the _hell _do you think you're doing?"

The presence on the bag was a sharp, and unwelcome, reminder. "My cherries!" I gasped, a brief vision of the fruit turning to nothing but juice pushing its way to the front of my mind.

"Your… cherries?"

"Yes, my cherries!" I opened the bag impatiently. Inside, the cherries stared back, some of them a bit bashed, but mostly intact.

"Why do you have so many—"

"One of the villagers asked me to bring her some cherries in exchange for some medicine she bought me because I got stung by a scorpion on the beach in the middle of the night!"

Morgan blinked. "Are you aware just how ridiculous you sound?"

I sighed and unfolded my legs. "Of course I do. And to top it all off, I disturbed a massive beehive…"

"Did you get stung?"

"I don't think so. I didn't feel anything." I checked my arms and legs all the same, but only the sting from the scorpion stood out. "Um… listen, I'm really sorry for barging in."

Morgan went quiet. He looked around the tent a few times, his sharp eyes darting back and forth. The bees buzzed angrily outside, their tiny shadows flickering on the tent canvas like specks of paint. "It's fine," he said eventually. "You can wait until they've gone."

"Thanks,"

Morgan's tent was pretty much the same as mine – a camp bed, in camouflage green instead of my canary yellow, a radio and a lamp. But most of his floor space was taken up by his camera equipment and, strangely enough, a rack of tools, including a net and a fishing pole.

He caught me staring. "I like to be prepared." He said, his chest puffed up. "Lots of good photo opportunities if I can catch my own fish and bugs."

I nodded, struggling for something to say. Inside his tent felt strangely claustrophobic, with so much heavy equipment and so little floor space to share. He was uncomfortably close, and I could feel the heat from his breath. I looked down and ran my fingers over the ground, feeling the blades of grass underneath. The bees still flitted outside.

"Have you met the neighbours?" I eventually asked.

"Just one."

"Which one?"

"Bill. He came by the tent at six in the morning to say hello."

"Ouch," I winced. "I've not met him yet. I think he must have been out when I passed by earlier." Everything I said sounded limp. The sooner the bees went away, the better. Still searching for something to say to fill the silence, I thought of the villager in tent three, the one removed from the map. "Have you met the other neighbour?"

"Muffy? No. She's not been by yet."

"No, I mean the other one."

"What other one?"

"The one in tent three. Have you not heard of him yet? Muffy said his name was Ross, but his location won't come up on the map, so I don't know where he lives or if he actually wants to meet anyone…"

Morgan returned a blank look. "I thought we were the only two humans here," he said with the smallest twitch of his shoulders. Then, with a pointed stare, "Oh well. It's not like I'm here to make friends anyway."

I lowered my head, trying to conceal the redness of my cheeks. Neither of us spoke, the silence between us expanding further. Then I realised I couldn't hear the bees anymore.

"I think it's safe now." I said, pushing myself to my feet. "I'll… get out of your hair."

To my surprise, he followed me back outside. I looked around, suddenly realising how completely unfamiliar I was with this area. Nothing but trees and the occasional rock. I couldn't even pinpoint which way I'd come in the first place. I consulted the map on the Nookphone.

Morgan came to stand over my shoulder. I tried very hard not to mind. "If you're looking to get back to Muffy's, you could probably get there quicker by going straight over the river."

I stared at the map. Morgan indicated the river that curved from just beyond his house inward to the centre of the island. A frown tugged at the corners of my mouth. Sure, it looked quicker as the crow flew, but it wasn't like I could grow a pair of wings and ride a good gust of wind across. I was stuck with stubby legs and no bridges this side of the island.

"There's no bridges." I said lamely.

"You don't need bridges. You can vault over it."

A vivid image of myself trying to vault the river and ending up soaked head-to-toe played inside my head like a rerunning silent movie. "Morgan, I'm not exactly a gymnast. And the river looks wide. And deep…"

Morgan made a low noise. "Wait there," he said, disappearing around the side of his tent. A few moments later he returned with a long pole, easily as thick as the widest part of his arm. "You can use this. It's a pole vault. Nook sold it to me after I went to his crafting course yesterday."

The pole was at least a head taller than me, and surprisingly supple, but I didn't trust it as far as I could throw it. Which likely wouldn't be far. "How does it work…?"

"It's simple," he said, although I doubted it. "I'll show you."

Using the pole to anchor himself, he cleared the river in one jump after a short run-up. As he landed safely on his feet, I couldn't hide the fact I was impressed. He vaulted back, a slight smirk curling on the length of his lips.

"Here," he pushed the pole into my hands. It was heavy, and I struggled to get the balance of it. "If you hop over this river and keep going straight, you'll end up hitting Residential Services eventually. It'll be a lot quicker than going all the way back around. Of course, if you can't manage the vault, you don't have to. You can do the walk."

I didn't dare want to admit that I'd rather walk. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. I'd never been massively physically fit and the idea of throwing myself over a section of deep water with only a wooden pole keeping me from falling in didn't sit right with me. I forced a smile in its stead.

"Thank you. I can… bring it back later tonight, if you like?"

"Nah. Keep it. I can make another. You look like you need it more."

I sucked in a breath, undecided if he was insulting me outright or inadvertently. Either way, I felt the smile on my face drop off. "Thanks," I said stiffly.

"I didn't mean to insult you." He didn't apologise, nor did he even sound sorry. "I just couldn't help but notice that you didn't exactly come here… prepared."

I bit my lip and hoped he would let the subject go. It was hard to come prepared to a place like this from the situation I'd come from.

"You should get down to one of Nook's classes." Morgan continued. "He's got all sorts going on, he'll teach you everything you need. And if you don't already have a net or a fishing rod, I'd suggest getting a hold of them. You really won't last long without either of them."

"Thanks for the warning." I said coolly. "And the pole." Out of a sense of obligation, I shrugged off my bag and opened it. "Would you like some cherries? I picked too many."

"You're fine, thanks. I don't like them."

"Alright then. I'll see you around."

"See you."

Leaving Morgan, I walked further down the river. He had turned around and was facing his tent now, but I kept walking. There was absolutely no way I was going to let him see my attempts at vaulting across the river. Especially if I didn't make it.

Finally, I found a part of the river that looked narrower. I dunked the pole into the water, pushing it down until it hit something solid. I wiggled it to test. Well, it would be as safe as anything else I'd done on this island so far.

I threw my head over both shoulders – just to make absolute sure that nobody was watching me – but something caught my eye in the distance. There was a tent sitting on the summit of a broad, steep hill. Nestled between thick clumps of trees, the tent was almost impossible to notice unless you looked up at the exact right angle. The flat top of the hill was rocky, falling away sharply on one side to cliffs hanging over the beach, and the hill upwards was covered in thick coarse grass and what looked like spiky brambles. It looked like whoever lived up there wanted to make it as difficult as possible for anyone else to reach them.

I pushed the thought away and got ready to make the leap. Trying to remember how Morgan had done it, it took me three "practice" run-ups to even gather up enough courage. On the fourth attempt, I plunged the pole into the middle of the river, pushed myself forward and sailed right over the water.

Landing on the other side, I fought the urge to jump around and cheer, thrilled with my own accomplishment. Even my bag of cherries had made it safely across. But as I turned around and looked back at the tent at the top of the hill, I saw a figure standing between the cluster of trees. The figure waited, unmoving, for what felt like hours. I thought maybe of waving, shouting a greeting, but the words died in my throat.

Eventually, the figure turned away and returned to the tent, leaving me with my heart beating erratically against my ribcage. This was becoming too much. The figure outside my tent, the one in the trees, now the one outside the third mystery tent. This settled it. I had to put all this straight. I couldn't start a new life with these worries hanging over me like the clouds from an oncoming storm.

I needed to finally meet Ross. Tonight.

* * *

**Author's Notes **

Hoo boy, this one was a labour of love! Bit of a long chapter and a fair amount of stuff happens in it! Next chapter will likely be another long one with a lot of stuff also happening, then we'll be dialling back to island life for a little while! So I hope you will continue to accompany me on this journey!

Thank you to everyone who's read, followed, and favourited so far! I really do appreciate every interaction! Special thanks as always to Wyldclaw for your dedicated reviews!

See you all on the next one!


	5. The Axeman Cometh

I waited until nightfall to leave the tent.

Muffy's suggestion that our mysterious other neighbour didn't come out unless it was dark had circled around my head all day. I needed to know, without a doubt, who he was. And, most importantly, if he was the person that had been following me around.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled eleven. I stuck my head outside the tent, into a cocoon of blackness that swallowed everything up. I hesitated before stepping out.

The darkness would have me at a disadvantage and I still hadn't replaced the lantern I'd accidentally broken on my first night here. I really should have replaced it. I assumed Tom Nook's store carried basic stuff like that? Either way, it was too late now, and I was left with the mediocre light of the Nookphone to navigate me through thickets of trees and treacherous grounds.

It took a long time to find the hill where Ross' tent sat. Mentally kicking myself, I wondered why I hadn't made a note on the Nookphone with its location. And then, when I eventually did stumble across it – totally by accident as I ran from a particularly aggressive stink-bug – I was left with a dilemma.

How was I going to get up there?

I wasn't exactly a picture of athleticism, so scaling cliffs in the pitch black was definitely out of the picture. That only left me the steep hill, practically vertical in its incline, and littered with prickly brambles. I craned my neck, trying to spot the tent among the trees, possibly a tell-tale glow of a lamp or lantern. What if I got there and he wasn't even there? It would be a waste of time – and unnecessary pain – if no-one was home.

Don't talk yourself out of it, Aisling, I told myself. You need answers. If he's not there, well, you're just going to have to wait until he comes back.

Resolve hardened, I started up the bramble path.

It was every bit as painful as I feared it would be. The backs of my legs burned with the strain of climbing, the brambles grasped for my bare legs – shorts, why did I wear _shorts _on a deserted island? – and scratched my skin, leaving stinging peals of blood. Looks like I'd be back into that medicine before the day was out.

The hill plateaued at the top. The tent sat behind a crop of trees, obscuring any view of the island beyond it, but the clearing was kept reasonably free of foliage and clutter. A fire had burned to embers in a nearby pit. A wooden table was pulled up to a tree-stump, hacked through, and covered in food wrappers. A lamp sat by the tent. I wanted to turn it on, but I was suddenly terrified of Ross appearing, startled by the light, blindly attacking the intruder to his base camp.

Using the light from the Nookphone, I looked around the tent. It was a larger one than mine, considerably so, and I nursed a small feeling of irritation at my own cramped surroundings. There didn't seem to be anyone home.

Behind the tent was baskets and baskets of wood, neatly chopped, and arranged with military precision. What could any one person want with so much wood?

I took another few steps, and then, without warning, light flooded the campsite. I swore, tripped, and fell backwards with a shriek. A basket of logs came toppling down with me.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The person standing in the light of the lantern was at least six-foot-tall and wide in the shoulders. A basket of wood was strapped on his back and, to my horror, a sharpened axe dangled loosely in his left hand. I squeaked and shuffled backwards, wiping out another basket in the process.

He glanced down at the axe in his hand and dropped it to the ground. "Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

He said all the right things, but flatly and dulled of any emotion. Not exactly the most comforting promise.

"I'm… I'm sorry!" I garbled. "I… I, uh…" Now that I was here, confronted with – presumably – Ross, right in front of me, any traces of the carefully rehearsed speech I'd prepared had gone right from my head. "You're… Ross, aren't you?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm Aisling." I tried. "I just moved here."

"I know. I saw your name on the map. You didn't answer my question"

"I…" I floundered. "I came looking to meet you, I guess?"

Ross dropped the logs to the ground, the crash splitting the silence. "I don't want visitors," he said, lifting the axe again.

Mildly fascinated, I watched as he set one of the discarded logs on the tree stump and used the axe to chop clean through it. It was almost hypnotic to watch as he worked himself into a rhythm. Swing, chop, new log. Swing, chop, new log. He had almost worked through the entire basket when I eventually remembered why I was here.

"I wanted to ask you something."

He kept chopping. Didn't even turn to look at me or acknowledge my question. I moistened my lips and summoned what little courage I had.

"Someone's been following me."

The chopping stopped.

"Not me," he said, eventually. "Maybe one of the other residents?"

"I'm not sure." I said. "The only other human resident is someone I already know. I don't think it would be him."

"You think. Which means you don't know." The chopping started up again. "You haven't known him that long, have you? Certainly not long enough to put that kind of trust in someone."

My words died in my mouth. I swallowed them back down.

"Put it this way, Aisling," he said with another swing of the axe. "You can't trust anyone here. Nothing good brings people like you and me to a place like this." The wood splintered, half-cut, and he swung again, a _thunk _reverberating through the woods. "You want my advice? Cut your losses. Go home."

"I can't go home."

I didn't mean to say it. The words were so puny that I hoped they'd skated by unnoticed. Instead, Ross swung his axe to his shoulders again.

"Then I suggest you watch your back."

With that, he gathered the logs and ducked inside his tent, the zip pulling closed behind him. I waited a long time before I found the courage to walk back into the darkness, illuminated only by the Nookphone, back towards my own tent and the uncertainties that lay there.

* * *

**Author's Notes**

Hi everyone!

A short and sweet update! I'm so sorry I got so distracted from this fic. New Horizons ate a bunch of my time and then I was prepping my murder mystery novel to go out to beta-readers and yeah. No excuses, really, but here I am again :)

Thanks for sticking with me and I hope you've enjoyed! :D


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